Storms, Slippers and Sisters
by hear the whispers
Summary: Glinda was not prepared for the letter of apology that arrived during one of the worst storms oz had seen in years. She was not prepared for the relief it would bring, nor the rush of guilt at the events mentioned within. She was not prepared for the sudden desire to find the woman whose decent into wickedness she had played a part in.


_**Hello! So, I recently saw Oz the Great and Powerful, and while I loved it, there were several things that I wished they had elaborated on. There was clearly some sort of history between Glinda and Evanora other than Evanora killing Glinda's father. And, I'm not sure about you, but I definitely got the impression that at some point, Evanora bit the apple as well. So this very long oneshot originated with that idea, and sort of developed by itself. This is based on a headcanon I developed with wickedevanora on tumblr, as well as a few ideas from my friend Morganalafay. **_

_**Btw, I've altered the story a little so that the witches (North, South, East, West) are sisters. Locasta, the Good Witch of the North, is the eldest, then Evanora, Glinda and Theodora.** Italics **are events that happened in the past/thoughts. **_

_**This has not been through beta, so there might be a few mistakes. I do not own the characters and such like; I am simply using them for my own purpose. **_

_**Characters: Glinda, Evanora primarily, with Oz and the Good Witch of the North, and mentions of Theodora. Genre: Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort. **_

_**I hope you enjoy! please leave a review!**_

* * *

_**Storms, Slippers and Sisters **_

Waiting for news was like the tension before a storm broke. The air was thick and the atmosphere heavy, and there was a weight on her shoulders that would just not go away. Her movements were stiff and slow with the knowledge that when the news did come, when the storm broke, the hope she was desperately holding onto would shatter, and the rain would drown her tears.

Despite everything that her sister had done, despite the animosity between them, Glinda could not wish her sister dead. Despite her relief that Evanora no longer had any power over the innocents of Oz, there was a fear that would not leave her that she had been responsible for her sister's death. Something that she had never wanted. And she knew that when the news came, it could not be good. A witch that had fallen to the darkness and subsequently lost the object that allowed them to harness their power could not survive long. In fact, even a purely good witch would not survive long without their magic. Usually witches were far older than they appeared, and losing their power meant that their years caught up to them in the matter of a few days.

Glinda stood in the library, leaning on the gleaming window sill, watching as the little drops of water hurtled past her to the ground far below. She tilted her head up, breathing deeply, attempting to let the wind wash away her troubles. The fresh smell of rain soothed her headache a little, but it did nothing to help her worry.

A flash of lightning eliminated the library, and the crystal glowed green momentarily as the fork raced across the dark clouds. Emotion restricted her throat and she closed her eyes, suddenly finding it very difficult to breath. Lightning crackled in the air, thunder roaring overhead, and green light flashed through her pale lids. It seemed that even this natural event served to remind her of her sister.

Something soft brushed against her hand and she jumped, her eyes flying open as she took an instinctive step back. She stared, surprised. A piece of paper lay on the window sill. As she watched, the wind tugged it into the air and it blew further into the library, landing at her feet. Curiously, she bent down and picked it up. The damp paper was folded in half neatly, smooth beneath her fingertips. A bright green leaf was caught in the fold. She frowned, greatly puzzled. She turned it over and froze, her heart in her mouth as she took in the single word written across the paper in an elegant, very familiar hand. _Glinda. _She knew that handwriting as well as she knew her own, though it had been a long time since she had last seen it. It had been many years since she had seen her own name in that handwriting. She swallowed with difficulty.

It seemed that news had come, just not in the way she had been expecting it.

She stood in the silent library for a long time, listening to the boom of thunder and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. Slowly, as if weighed down by a great burden, the woman crossed the room and sat in one of the comfortable chairs by the fire. The warm light flickered over the paper, casting her name into shadow. Her hands were trembling. What would she find when she opened it? What on earth could Evanora have to say to her?

She took a deep breath. Delaying opening the letter would not make it go away. She laid her wand in her lap and took the paper in both hands. She hooked a finger in the fold and flipped the letter open, smoothing out the crease deftly.

The letter was brief, containing only one sentence. _Despite what you did, I am sorry. _

Like she had expected, the letter shattered her perception of the world. She could feel the emotions rushing up on her, along with a history she had no wish to remember. Her hand found the arm of the chair and she gripped it, her nails digging into the soft material as she closed her eyes tightly. How like Evanora to remind her of the event that still haunted her waking moments before she apologised.

Glinda's eyes flew open as the realisation hit her. More than the apology itself, this letter proved what she had barely dared to hope for. Evanora was alive.

A laugh escaped her lips and she felt some great weight lift from her shoulders. She had not been responsible for her sister's death after all. And somehow, Evanora had seen fit to apologise. What she was apologising for was another matter. Glinda bit her lip, her stomach twisting as she glanced back at the beginning of the letter. Guilt tasted bitter on her tongue and she swallowed several times. She would never forgive herself for what had happened, and it seemed that Evanora wouldn't either.

Still, for now, the knowledge that her sister was alive was enough.

The knowledge that she had somehow regained her powers, and undoubtedly her youth, could be ignored for now. She would have to worry about it later, but for now the relief was all she could focus on. The danger could be ignored for now, along with the sudden desperate desire to find her sister, just to make sure that she really was alive.

* * *

Glinda sat in the library, staring at the fire. This was the second surprise she had received in less than a week, and she wasn't sure how much more her nerves could handle.

Oz stood with his back to the fire, watching the woman anxiously. He had clasped his hands behind him to prevent them from fidgeting. The witch had not moved since he had informed her of the guest waiting in the throne room. This had been at least fifteen minutes ago. He had no idea who the woman was to Glinda, but hearing the name had been enough to make the witch collapse into the chair, as if her legs had simply given out.

With a sigh, realising that Glinda was not going to move any time soon, Oz crossed the small space between them and knelt down in front of her, placing his hands on her knees. 'Glinda? What's wrong? Who is this woman?'

Glinda continued to stare at the flickering flames, avoiding his eyes. 'Locasta…' the woman's name came out in a breath, feeling foreign as it slipped from her tongue. It had been so long since she had said it. 'She…' she swallowed heavily. 'She's my sister'.

The wizard's eyes widened, the surprise clear on his face. 'You have a sister?'

Glinda laughed shakily. 'I have three, actually. Of course, not many people see the resemblance between Evanora and me, though she and Theodora are clearly related'.

Oz blinked rapidly. 'Evanora and Theodora are your sisters?'

The good witch nodded absently, twirling her wand anxiously in her slender hands. 'One for each point of the compass. Evanora was the…Wicked Witch of the East, Theodora the West. My point was the South, and Locasta was the North'. The last name caught in her throat momentarily. She had been sure that her eldest sister was dead.

Oz reached out and touched her pale cheek gently, concern flickering in his eyes. 'Glinda…what happened between you? I mean you and Evanora? No two sisters should hate each other that much'.

He was stunned by the pain in Glinda's soft eyes. 'It's a long story. Too long and too painful for today'. She reached up and laced their fingers together against her cheek, closing her eyes briefly. There was a long, comfortable silence. Finally she stood. 'I'll see her now'.

* * *

Glinda was not sure what she had expected. She was vaguely aware that she had expected some sort of physical injury, to account for the wide spread belief that Locasta was dead. But there was no injury, nothing beyond a faint bruise marring her sister's pale cheek.

An awkward silence filled the throne room. Oz stood behind Glinda, watching the woman opposite them, trying to see any evidence that they were related. Glinda had decided that her sister could see the wizard as he truly was. No matter her reasons for disappearing, no matter what her other sisters had become, she still trusted Locasta. She had to believe that at least one of her sisters still loved her.

He could see it. This woman seemed to be the missing connection, the visual proof that the four witches were related. She was tall, at least as tall as Evanora, and very slim. Long, curly golden hair cascaded down her back, and her skin was fair. Her eyes were dark, as dark as Theodora's, and he could see Evanora in the carved angles of her beautiful face. A deep blue dress embroidered with silver threads hugged her slender frame, and when she moved he caught flashes of pale blue in the delicate material. A silver bracelet adorned her dainty wrist, exquisitely carved with tiny spirals and gentle waves, and the light glittered in a deep sapphire set in the centre.

Glinda could not take her eyes away from her sister's face. Unsurprisingly, she had not aged one day, and she looked exactly like she had the last day Glinda had seen her. The only difference was in her dark eyes. Those eyes looked old, old and weary, as if they carried a secret that was too much to bear. The emotion swirling her dark orbs looked akin to guilt, guilt and sadness, and something like worry. And suddenly, Glinda felt angry. She felt angrier than she had in years. How _dare_ her sister deceive them all like that? How dare she disappear mere days after their father's death, in the days that Glinda had needed her most? How dare she leave when she could have prevented Evanora from blaming the King's murder on her?

'What are you doing here Locasta?' The words were harsh and angry, and she had no wish to disguise her displeasure.

The woman flinched visibly, her eyes closing briefly. Locasta had always been very good at reading people, at understanding what fuelled them, what was at the root of their emotions. She could clearly tell why Glinda was angry, and that only served to fuel it. She didn't want to be understood right now. She wanted, childishly, to scream and rage and cry that it was not fair. Because it wasn't. Their family should never have split apart the way it had.

'Glinda…' A tremor wracked her body as her name slipped from her sister's lips. The witch's voice was soft and musical, carrying that same soothing quality that Glinda had always associated with her eldest sister. Locasta had always been able to sooth away her nightmares as a child, and she had once had a reputation for being able to sing the birds down from the trees. The burning anger in her chest roared. She didn't want to be soothed.

'Don't. Don't do that. Don't talk to me like I am a child. Don't try and calm me down. I don't want to be calm. I want to know what the hell happened to you! Why did you leave? Why did you let us all think that you were dead?' Her voice caught and she was appalled to feel tears gathering in her eyes. 'Why did you leave when I needed you most?'

There was a gleam in her sister's dark eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Locasta took a deep breath. 'It is a very long story'.

'Well I have nothing better to do', she snapped. Her hands were trembling where they clutched her wand.

Oz placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging her tense muscles with the pads of his thumbs. 'I think I'll leave you two alone'.

'No. It's fine. We'll go to the library'.

Glinda spun on her heal and marched out of the throne room, attempting to gather her composure. She didn't bother to check whether her sister was following her. She clenched her wand tightly, her knuckles whitening on the smooth surface.

Once in the library, she sat down in the chair closest to the fire. It wasn't long before a swish of skirts heralded Locasta's arrival. She kept her eyes averted as the woman sat down carefully in the chair beside her. Attempting to continue breathing steadily, Glinda glanced at her sister out of the corner of her eye. Locasta was staring into the fire, frowning thoughtfully. Glinda's eyes were drawn to the bruise on her cheek; a mark that she now realised was reminiscent of a hand mark. 'What happened to your cheek?' The words slipped out without her permission, and she hated how concerned she sounded.

Locasta's lips quirked slightly, but Glinda could plainly see the pain that flashed momentarily in her eyes. 'I…paid a visit to Evanora. She wasn't exactly happy to see me'.

She felt a sting of betrayal. 'You visited her before you visited me? You took the time to look for the woman that killed our father and had me banished instead of coming here?' She laughed harshly. 'I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It wasn't like you cared enough to stay around after she killed father'.

To her slight surprise, Locasta bit her lip, as if she was desperately trying to hold in the words on the tip of her tongue. 'Don't be too harsh on her sister. She had her legitimate reasons for killing our father. As for visiting her – '

Glinda interrupted. 'Her legitimate reasons?! So you're justifying what she did? You're standing up for her when she killed our father? Nothing but wickedness can explain what she did'.

For the first time, an emotion other than guilt and sadness sparked in her sister's eyes. Anger. It churned in her sisters eyes like the storms she could create. 'You don't know what you're talking about Glinda. Not long before she killed father, she discovered something that broke her completely. And somehow…she got her hands on an apple of wickedness. By the time she killed our father, the apple would have corrupted her heart completely'. She held up her hand as Glinda opened her mouth to object. 'And before you ask how I know that…I sensed that something was wrong when she ate it. You and I have that in common you know, we can tell when the goodness finally leaves someone. I went to check on her, only to have my worst fears confirmed. The apple was lying on her bed, and there was a rather generous chunk bitten out of it'.

Glinda was silent for a moment. Something in her heart wrenched for her sister. She knew what had contributed to Evanora taking that fateful bite. If only she had paid more attention. If only she had sensed what was happening earlier. 'I still don't think that that justifies what she did. Why did you visit her if you knew that she wouldn't be happy to see you? You always used to talk about the fact that she was more powerful than you'.

The anger died in her sister's dark eyes. 'I could feel… she was dying. You know that. Without her emerald, there was no way for her to harness her magic, and thus her years were catching up to her. Do you know what happens when a witch corrupted by darkness losses their magic? They revert to their true appearance. They reflect the pitiful condition that their heart is in'.

Glinda nodded slowly. That explained why Theodora's appearance had changed so drastically when she ate the apple. 'Still…what could you do? To help?'

Locasta fiddled absently with the bracelet encircling her wrist. 'I…I gave her a way to harness her magic again. Still, she wasn't exactly pleased to see me, and the first thing she did on receiving it was to show me exactly how angry with me she was'.

'Why would she be angry with you? Your disappearance ensured that she inherited the throne until…' Glinda's eyes widened in shock as a realisation struck her. 'You…you knew. You knew that she killed father. And I don't mean as a result of everything that just happened, I mean before she blamed me. You knew that she was responsible!' She stood and backed away from her sister, her wand pointed at the witch's chest. 'Why didn't you say anything?!'

Locasta got to her feet as well, her hands held at shoulder height in a gesture of peace. Guilt and regret shone in her dark eyes, but Glinda hardened her heart and kept her wand steady. 'Glinda…yes, I knew. I knew the moment I heard that he was dead. I didn't say anything because I knew that Evanora had discovered a secret that our father had kept from everyone, including you. I left because I knew that she had discovered the part I had played in her downfall. I left…I left because I didn't want to destroy our family any more than it had been by waiting around for her to kill me'.

Glinda lowered her wand, confusion washing away her anger. 'What are you talking about? Our father kept no secrets, especially not from me! Why would she want to kill you?'

Locasta's hands dropped by her sides. She turned away from Glinda and moved towards the fireplace. With a heavy sigh, she placed her arms on the mantelpiece and leaned her head against them, staring down into the fire. 'I'm talking about _him_, Glinda'.

The wand slipped from her suddenly numb fingers, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. She staggered sideways, grabbing onto the back of the arm chair to prevent her from falling. Locasta didn't need to say his name for her to understand who she was talking about. 'What…I don't understand'.

'There is a lot about his death that you don't understand Glinda, a lot that was kept from you, despite the part you had to play'. Locasta sounded exhausted, and it suddenly occurred to her sister that she had probably never talked about this before.

'Stop! Please…I don't want to think about that'. She didn't want to think about what she had done to Evanora, to the young boy who had loved her. She closed her eyes, unable to prevent the memory from rising behind her eyes. She remembered a handsome young wizard, a wizard with enough skill to be apprenticed to the King. She remembered the charming lopsided grin that had always turned her stomach to mush. She remembered his bright green eyes, eyes the exact same shade as Evanora's magic. She took a deep shuddering breath. 'What exactly did you do?'

Locasta laughed dryly. 'I made an offhand comment to the man responsible for his death. I said, 'it seems odd that your apprentice should be spending so much time with Glinda. I was sure that he and Evanora had come to some sort of agreement'. I think he believed that he was pursuing you and that he would break your heart like he accidently broke Evanora's. So he did something about it'.

Glinda stared at her. Only part of that sentence seemed to register in her mind. _Your apprentice. _'Wait…are you saying that…_father_ killed him?' Locasta turned her head on her arms, and the look she received was enough to confirm it. 'No…he wouldn't…why….I don't believe you!' _I can't. _

Locasta gripped the mantelpiece tightly, unable to stand the miserable tone in her sister's voice. 'I didn't want to believe it either at first. But it's true Glinda. He didn't want you, his precious protégé, running around with a mere apprentice. You know that father had a tendency to overact to the extreme. Evanora discovered the truth several years after _his_ death. I don't know exactly how she did, but the next thing I knew, our father was dead. Murdered. I knew what had happened. And I knew…' she laughed shakily. 'I knew that it wouldn't be long before Evanora discovered what I had done, if she hadn't already. I was in the North at the time, having just defeated Mombi. When I heard, I decided to let you believe that the struggle had drained my magic to the point of death. To tell you the truth, I didn't say anything because at the time I couldn't understand how father could have done that, to you or to her. I believed…I believed that he got what he deserved. I believed that I deserved to be punished in some way. So I stayed away'.

Glinda stared at her sister. She wanted to believe that she was lying. That she was deceiving her in some way, trying to make her feel pity. But then Locasta turned to face her and she knew that she was telling the truth. No one could fake that much emotion, that much guilt and grief and sorrow. And her world shattered.

Without a sound, Glinda crumpled to the ground, folding in on herself like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. She leaned against the back of the chair, hugging her legs to her chest, and a violent sob tore from her lips. Her vision blurred as tears gathered in her eyes, spilling over and pouring down her cheeks. She buried her face in her arms and wailed brokenly. Her father, the man she had worshiped, the man she had loved, had killed an innocent boy. Intentionally or not, her father had ripped their family apart by breaking Evanora's heart. And it that moment, she hated him. She hated him for his tendency to over react. She hated him for his belief that he had to protect his little girl. She hated him in the same way she was sure Evanora had. And she hated herself for it.

Arms encircled her, and despite her wish to resist, she felt herself being pulled into a warm embrace. She turned and flung her arms around her sister's neck, hiding her face in her shoulder as strong yet gentle arms wrapped around her securely. Her sister smelt of crisp fresh air and ocean sea spray, and her sobbing increased in volume at the realisation that she was actually here, that she was really alive, despite all evidence to the contrary.

'I'm sorry Glinda. I'm so sorry'. A hand cupped the back of her head, nimble fingers running through smooth fair hair, and Glinda's arms tightened around her sister's slender waist.

It seemed that there had been far more to Evanora's decent into wickedness than she had originally known.

* * *

_Her hand was stinging. She hoped that her sister's rapidly reddening cheek hurt more than her hand. She was trembling in anger, and something like despair. She could feel the memories she had been so successful in blocking out crashing down on her in waves. Magic thrummed anew threw her veins, raw and real and _powerful_. It would be so easy to lash out and show her sister just how angry she was. Locasta had always talked about Evanora's superior power. Though Evanora had doubted this herself sometimes; she wasn't the one with the ability to manipulate water in all its forms. She wasn't the one that caused it to storm violently when she was upset. _

_Locasta raised a hand to her cheek and smiled ruefully. 'I probably deserved that'._

_Evanora flinched. After their mother's death, the two older sisters had taken over the maternal role to an extent, doing the best to show their younger siblings that care that they needed. Still, Evanora had been but a girl at the time, at least by Oz's standards. Sometimes the responsibility had been too much, and she'd found herself turning to her older sister for the affection she no longer received. The sound of Locasta's soothing voice had not affected her before, while she had been no more than a decrepit old woman on the verge of death. Now, with her youth and power restored, she could feel the white hot anger in her washing away with her sister's words. Her voice carried the calming tone of a gentle ocean. 'Probably', she hissed, her anger still very much there. 'You're as much to blame for his death as…'_

'_As you are?' Locasta's beautiful face was creased with compassion and concern, and Evanora hated her for it. She hated her for her ability to see what you wished to hide, for her gift at hearing the words about to slip from your tongue. _

_It was strange really, that even without her heart she was able to feel as acutely as she did. Strange that that those three words could extinguish her anger like a snuffed candle flame. 'Don't you dare talk about him. You don't have a right'._

'_Evanora…you are not to blame for what happened. No more than I am, no more than Glinda is'._

_Evanora turned away, folding her arms over her chest tightly. 'Don't talk to me about Glinda either. She tried to take him from me. She fought with tooth and nail and in the end it killed him'. She laughed harshly. 'Or are you forgetting that she was _with_ him when he died?'_

'_Are you forgetting that about the letter that he gave her, with the instructions to give it to you? Are you forgetting that in the moments before he died, he chose you over her?'_

_The letter. Oh god, she'd left it behind in the Emerald City. The last piece she had of him was probably burning at this very moment. The last existing proof that he really had loved her was gone. _

_A gentle hand touched her shoulder. And perhaps because of the horror washing over her, or perhaps because it was the first gesture of real kindness that anyone had shown her in years, she didn't pull away. But she didn't turn around either. There were boundaries that she had put in place years ago that she would not cross. She would not show weakness in front of another. She had learnt long ago not to appear vulnerable in front of anyone you weren't completely sure you could trust. Once, she had trusted Locasta as she had trusted the sun to rise in the morning and set in the evening. But that trust, like so many other things that had mattered to her, was gone. 'Nora…' _

_The nickname she hadn't heard since before she had lost everything was nearly enough to break her. What was happening to her? Why could she suddenly feel every repressed emotion as acutely as if she still had her heart? Why, why oh why, did she suddenly wish that things had been different? _

_Locasta didn't say anything, probably sensing how close Evanora was to breaking. Up until her betrayal, the Good With of the North had cared for Evanora's feelings more than most. It had made up a little for the fact that her father had barely ever paid her attention. Her, the child who took after their mother more than anyone, in personality as well as looks, and who he found it painful to even be in the same room as. _

_There was a long silence, broken only by the gentle tune of the river reeds. Finally, Evanora spoke. 'I can't repay you for the slippers'. It was true. There was no way she could, not without giving them back, and that defeated the whole purpose. _

_A soft laugh washed over her, a laugh like high musical bells that brought more memories rushing back. 'I do not expect repayment. They are my way of making up for what I did'._

_Evanora frowned, though she knew that her sister couldn't see it. 'I thought that you said you weren't to blame'._

_This time, the laughter was choked and mournful. 'Oh my darling, I was merely saying what any rational person would say. But that doesn't mean that I will ever stop blaming myself. Much in the same way that you will never stop hating yourself for not giving him a second chance while you still could'._

_Evanora bit her lip until she tasted blood. Here, on the edge of a lake where a young boy had died, in the presence of the one person who had always put her first, with no one to witness what happened, she felt like she could risk weakness. After all, the only thing worse than her current suffering was death, right?_

_Even still, the words that slipped past her lips were nearly too quiet to be heard. 'I miss him'. God, when had she started to sound so broken? So tired? When had she started to sound like the young girl destroyed by heartbreak all those years ago?_

_Locasta spun her around with surprising strength, and her soft hands were suddenly cupping her face. Almost identical dark eyes met as the older witch searched her face intently, looking for something that Evanora neither knew nor cared about. Evanora's body was stiff and straight, unwilling to relax into the foreign, possibly threatening touch. Locasta seemed to find it though, because a lovely smile lit up her pale face. 'Have you ever heard people talk about death? Have you ever heard the phrase, 'death is only the beginning, a path that we all must take'? If that is true, and I have seen much that leads me to believe that it is, then _he_ will be waiting for you there. And I am sure that he misses you just as much'._

_If Evanora felt the tears trickling down her cheeks to pool in her sister's hands, she didn't mention it. And, much to the surprise of the elder, she made no effort to brush them away. Her eyes closed tightly, as if to prevent any more from falling. _

_And because they were closed, she didn't see the relief that flashed in Locasta's deep eyes. _

_Perhaps there was hope for the younger woman after all._

* * *

It was her sister's return and the revelation that she had brought with her that had led to Glinda entering Evanora's chambers. The former advisor's room hadn't been touched since her departure. Glinda hadn't wanted to go in there. She was afraid of what she would find.

It was surprisingly bare. An elegant four poster bed hung with emerald drapes, a beautifully carved wardrobe, and an overflowing book case that made up one whole wall, stretching from floor to ceiling.

There were two small portraits in the room, positioned on the bedside table. One was a painting of Theodora, done before the family had split apart. In it, the youngest sister was smiling happily, her large hat obscuring part of her face. Glinda felt a tug in her heart for the sister that was now so hell bent on their destruction.

The second portrait was hand drawn. She had watched Evanora do it, on a bright summer's day down by the river. Glinda sat down on the bed and picked it up, running her fingers over the perfect representation. A handsome young man with dark hair and bright eyes was smiling down at something in his hands, and the joy on his face was enough to make her breath catch. It had been a gift from Evanora, she remembered, and she didn't think she'd ever seen her sister as happy as she had been on that day.

The fact that this was still here was enough to prove what she had suspected for a long time. Despite popular belief, her sister was still capable of love.

She hated the fact that she had been too naive to see that her sister was being driven more and more towards the darkness, towards the apple that had ripped her heart to shreds.

She turned the frame over, unsure what she was looking for, and stopped, a tiny detail catching her attention. There was a tiny gap in the back of the frame, and though the narrow slit she could see a white piece of paper. Curious, she pried the back away from the frame. A letter fell into her lap. Her breath caught as she took in the name scrawled across the top in a loopy, boyish hand. She could still remember giving this letter to her sister. She could still remember _him_ handing it to her on request that she give it to Evanora. The memory returned with such speed that she gasped.

'_Glinda…' He looked anxious, twisting his hands together nervously as he avoided her gaze. Despite the fact that neither were talking, the gurgle of the lake running past them and the melodious tunes of the river reeds prevented it from ever being truly quite. _

_She frowned. She was not as naïve as people believed her to be. She knew that he was reluctant to continue for fear of hurting her feelings. 'What is it? Come on, you know that you can tell me'._

_He sighed heavily. 'Glinda…you've been an amazing friend. Truly. But this can't continue. I've hurt the woman I love beyond repair. She…when you kissed me that one time…she saw. And she understandably thought the worst'. She could see the misery in his enchanting green eyes, the self-loathing and guilt, and her heart wrenched. _

'_You want to stop seeing me?'_

_He shook his head. 'I want to keep seeing you, but only as a friend. I've been trying to talk to her but she won't listen. She thinks that I've fallen for you'. He seemed to see the hurt in her eyes because he reached out and grasped her hand, his gaze apologetic. 'You're an amazing girl Glinda. But I love Evanora. And I can't keep hurting her. I can't keep hurting you'._

_She nodded, giving him a watery smile. The last thing she wanted was to hurt her sister. 'I understand. If it helps, I know that she loves you. She'll forgive you eventually. She has the greatest capacity for love that I've ever seen'._

_He smiled. 'Thank you'. He paused for a moment. Then he pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket. It was addressed to Evanora. 'Please give this to her. I tried to get Theodora to do it, but she wouldn't speak to me, much less listen. She thinks that I intentionally hurt her sister'. He had not released the letter yet, as if he was reluctant to part with it. _

_Glinda nodded. 'I will'._

_The apprentice smiled. 'Thank…' he stopped, frowning deeply. He looked up, realising suddenly that the bright sun had disappeared behind ominous clouds. On the edge of hearing, he could just make out a high pitched whining sound. 'Can you hear that?'_

_It was the only warning they had. The relative peace of the evening was shattered by an explosion that rocked the ground and threw the two friends high into the air. Glinda screamed as something sharp dug into her arm. She landed heavily in the water. The reeds pulled her under, down deep into the murky waters at the bottom of the lake, and the more she struggled the tighter they wound. Looking up, she could see murky shapes flashing above the water; hear shouts and a scream of pain. _

_The light began to dim and darken as the lack of oxygen started to drag her into unconsciousness. Gripping her wand tightly, she ignored the pain in her arm and focused her energy. The reeds were ripped from her legs, leaving dark marks on her skin as she hurtled through the water. She surfaced, bursting out of the water and into the air, only to collapse coughing on the green grass. _

_Fear gripped her body as she rolled onto her front, water pouring from her mouth as she struggled to breathe sufficiently. Gasping, she looked up, searching for their attacks. But they were gone. The only person she could see was lying not two metres away from her, and she could hear their moans of pain as they drifted in the wind towards her. _

_On her hands and knees, she crawled across the ground until she reached him. Horror flooded her as she turned him onto his back. A long sharp object, a spear, protruded from his muscled chest. Blood poured from the wound, covering the vivid grass and the white material of his shirt. Her hands were stained already. 'No…no, no, no! Don't do this! Don't die!' But she knew that there was no hope for him. There was too much blood. _

_His eyes were glazing as his hand grasped for hers. 'Take it…' he coughed violently, blood leaking from his mouth to trickle down his cheek. She glanced down, realising that the object he was trying to pass her was the letter. She took it in shaking hands tarnished with his blood. He stared at her, the last flickering light of determination fading in his eyes. 'Tell her…I'm sorry'. His gaze became urgent as his breath came in uneven gasps. 'Tell…I love her…' His strong chest heaved several times before he became still, his bright green eyes dulling in death. _

_She bowed her head over him, tears pouring from her eyes as she clutched the letter tightly, as if it was the most precious thing in the world. What was she going to do? _

_What was she going to say to her sister?_

Glinda jerked away from the memory, her face wet with tears. They stained the crumpled letter in her hands, hands that for a moment appeared bright with blood. She shook herself forcefully, replacing the letter in the frame with shaking hands. She had never read it, and though she could guess what it said, she never would. The letter had been written for her sister and her sister alone. Despite what might have happened between them, she would not intrude on the words _he_ had written to her.

It occurred to her that Evanora probably hadn't had time to return to her room before Glinda confronted her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the emotions churning inside her.

Perhaps it was time to put the guilt at rest. Perhaps it was time to apologise.

* * *

The peaceful quite of the woodland was broken only by the distinct sound of someone crying and desperately trying to not be heard. The sobs rose and fell in a stead rhythm, and every now and then a violent wail would break free from her swollen lips and rise in the wind, and she would thank god that this part of Oz was relatively unpopulated. It would not do for someone to see the wicked witch of the east so vulnerable. Many people believed that she was incapable of feeling emotion, that she had no heart, and that was the way she wanted it to stay.

But here, with no one witness to her weakness, so close to the place where she had lost everything, she was helpless to prevent the overwhelming grief pouring from her against her will.

Every time she thought that she had a hold of her emotions, every time she was sure that she had locked the memories away along with the remaining pieces of her heart, something would drag them back to the surface, shattering her walls.

_I love you Evanora. _

A low moan vibrated in her throat. Her hands flew to her mouth, attempting to hold in her sobs as her body trembled violently. Her eyes squeezed shut, her jaw clenching so tightly that it shook. But the pressure on her mouth felt suffocating. Her chest restricted painfully, her lungs burning as she heaved raged gulps of air, her hands moving to cradle her stomach.

_I love you, more than anything in all of Oz and all the worlds beyond. _

She clutched her head with one hand, her nails digging into her scalp as her limp body slid sideways onto the forest floor, her feet braced against the tree behind her. 'Stop it! Please!' Her raw screams echoed through the silent forest, and there was no one to answer her pleas. The voice was in her head, in her blackened heart and broken soul, and she hadn't the strength to silence it.

_I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much. _

She had bitten the apple because she wanted the pain to stop. She wanted that pain in her heart to cease. She'd wanted _his_ memory to leave her. She'd wanted to forget that she had ever been anything more than the wicked witch she was now.

She still didn't understand why it hadn't worked.

Her heart might have withered and numbed, but she could still _feel._ Still fell the guilt.

Ever since she had put the silver shoes on, the pain and memories and the _guilt_ had returned without mercy. Was it her sister's doing? Had her older sister tricked her, betrayed her again? Or was it that her visit had simply served to remind her of what she had lost?

Her hands smoothed down her legs, grasping the silver shoes adorning her feet. If her sister had betrayed her, the enchantment would be on the gift she had received from her. Her hands tightened, close to ripping them away. Without this new way of harnessing her power, she would return to the condition Glinda had left her in, and she would eventually die. Perhaps that was no more than she deserved. If it hadn't been for her, _he _mightn't have died.

Her fingers loosened, falling into the dirt limply. No. she didn't deserve the reprieve death would bring her. She deserved to suffer, to feel the guilt and the pain. Whether or not Locasta had done something to them, she would not remove the shoes. She still didn't quite understand why her sister had seen fit to visit. However much she might try and convince herself otherwise, she didn't deserve the kindness her older sister had shown her. Not anymore.

Something pale and white entered her field of vision. Blinking her tears away, she was startled, and somewhat horrified, to see that the object was a bare foot. A human foot. Someone had come across her in her weakest moments. Rage sparked within her as sparks crackled along her fingertips. They had made a mistake.

Her gaze travelled higher, up the new comer's simple, white pants, past the narrow hips and white cotton shirt, beneath which she could see a strong, muscled chest, and past the broad shoulders to their face. And her heart stopped. It was _him. _Pale and hazy in the faint light, but it was him. Just as handsome, looking down at her with those bright green eyes, a kind smile curving his lips. But it couldn't be real. He couldn't really be real. He was dead. This was her mind playing tricks on her. Huh. First her family betrayed her, then her mind. It seemed that there really wasn't anyone she could trust anymore. So, she hardened her heart, despite the desire to stand and fling herself at him. 'Go away. You're not real'. Her voice was raw and rough, broken and thick with emotion.

The hallucination crouched down beside her, and she could see now that he really was just a figment of her imagination, because she could see the trees through his wispy form. But his eyes were just so familiar. 'Hello Evy'.

Evy. Oh god. She hadn't heard that name since he had died. She could vividly remember the first day he called her that. A picnic, she recalled, a picnic under the stars with no one to monitor their embraces. She gritted her teeth, fighting back a sob of longing. 'You're dead'.

He smiled, soft and gentle, and he made a strange movement, as if he was trying to stop himself from reaching out to her. 'Death is only the beginning'.

She pushed herself up, leaning back against the trunk behind her. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, suddenly exhausted. 'So what, this is real?'

His bright eyes gazed into hers, deep and penetrating, as if he could see directly into her soul. 'Well, reality is only what we perceive it to be'.

She sighed, leaning her head against the tree. Still, a tiny smile curved her lips. 'You always did like to speak in riddles. Alright then. I perceive that I'm hallucinating because I am depressed and lonely and I miss you desperately. Perhaps I am going mad'.

'They say that love makes us all mad'. He reached out towards her, stopping just shy of touching her cheek. He sighed heavily, his eyes sad and regretful. 'What happened to you Evy? What happened to the girl who only ever wanted her happy ending?'

Perhaps this was her subconsciousness speaking. That small shred of the young girl she had once been rebelling against the wicked witch she had become. She shrugged. She had very little to say on the matter. 'She grew up. She grew up and lost everything and discovered that you couldn't trust anyone. She lost the man she loved and was betrayed by those closest to her. And that can make you do terrible things'.

He smiled. She couldn't stand it any longer, those soft smiles that her mind would never forget. Those smiles that made her feel loved and wanted and safe. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, attempting to block him out. Perhaps if she focused harder, her mind would remember what was fantasy and what was reality. It wasn't that hard really. Reality didn't have him in it. Something feathery soft and soothingly cool brushed against her forehead, and she imagined, just for a moment, that the gentle pressure was a kiss. 'I never left you Evy. Remember that. As long as you love me, I will never leave you'.

When she next opened her eyes, he was gone. It was like losing him all over again. Her toes curled and she buried her face in her arms. Emotion after emotion crashed down on her, pounding against her like the sea whipped up in a gale. The guilt, the love, the joy and the regret, all of it rushing over her until she felt like she was drowning. It was overwhelming.

Her hands wrapped around her slippers again. This time, there was no one to blame but herself and her inability to block out those things that made her weak. She'd never wanted to be the villain of the story.

* * *

'Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?' Locasta's beautiful face was creased with concern, the anxiety visible in the way she kept fiddling with her bracelet. It was a habit Evanora had developed too, Glinda remembered.

She swallowed heavily, understanding why her eldest sister was asking such a question. 'I'm sure. This is something I have to do by myself'. _If I arrive with someone she'll think that someone put me up to it, that it's not real. If I go with someone, she'll probably believe that I am there to finish her. _

Locasta sighed heavily. She stepped forwards and placed her hands on Glinda's shoulders. She was taller than her younger sister, and Glinda was forced to tilt her head up to look at her. Locasta leaned forwards and pressed a gentle kiss to Glinda's forehead. Glinda saw the sapphire glow in her peripheral vision as a calm settled on her. She felt warm all over, like a coat had descended on her shoulders. Locasta stepped back, a small smile curving her red lips. 'For protection'.

Glinda smiled. She had not said it, but they both understood that Locasta had been forgiven to some extent. Though she wished that she had at least kept in contact with her after her banishment, she understood Locasta's reasons for disappearing.

Locasta stepped aside and Oz stepped forwards. The wizard embraced her tightly. Over his shoulder, Glinda could see the anxious faces of the China Girl and Finley. The China Girl was holding onto the monkey's hand and the rim of Locasta's skirt for security, and her eyes seemed to plead with her not to go.

Oscar's breath was warm in her ear. 'You don't have to do this'.

She pulled back and reached up to cup his face, smiling as his stubble rubbed against her smooth skin. 'Yes, I do. She is my sister, no matter what happened between us. I…I never apologised, in the past. I should have made an effort to be there, rather than wallow in my own misery. If I had…things might be different'.

He sighed. 'But…' Glinda silenced him with a firm kiss. Then, before anyone could try to further persuade her, she turned and stepped onto the balcony.

She breathed in deeply, letting the cool fresh air fill her lungs, and then waved her wand. A transparent bubble, tinged pink against the dark sky, appeared around her. She rose off the emerald floor and up into the air. The storm had been going for an entire week now, and she had watched it from below. Now it surrounded her, but she wasn't afraid.

She didn't look back.

* * *

She stood on the edge of the lake, her hands clenched tightly around her wand. It had been surprisingly easy to follow the trail that Locasta had purposely left for her to follow. But she had not expected it to lead here. It was a relatively unexplored part of Oz, which was probably why Evanora had chosen it. It was one of those places where the beauty displayed bellied its danger. The lake stretched out in front of her, clear and flat and twinkling in the moonlight. A gentle wind sprung up, casting a gentle melody over the lake. The land behind her slopped up towards a green wood. Somewhere among those tress she would find her sister. Somewhere among those trees she would have to face what she had done.

'I see Locasta couldn't help herself. She had to believe that there was some chance of our family healing the cracks between us'.

Glinda spun, her wand glowing as bright as the moon hanging in the dark blue sky. Evanora was standing surprisingly close to her, just on the edge of the wood's long shadows. Despite the warning her eldest sister had given her, it was something of a surprise to see the condition her older sister was in.

She had regained her youth, and her beauty shone under the bright moon, the twinkling stars reflecting her dark eyes. Dark hair cascaded down her shoulders in gentle waves, and the hair band holding it away from her face was stripped of its feathers. Beneath the rim of her gown, Glinda could see the tips of gleaming silver shoes. It was strange, seeing her sister like this, with her hair down and her appearance relatively modest.

As the taller witch stepped forwards, Glinda realised with a start that dried liquid gleamed on her defined cheekbones. She wasn't sure whether it was a good sign or not that her sister hadn't bothered to hide the fact that she had clearly been crying.

It was the first time she had seen her since she had striped her of her magic, and she could feel all the built up emotions rising in her heart. The relief that her sister truly was alive and relatively well was nearly overwhelming. Emotion clogged her throat, and she had difficulty speaking. And the first words to come were not the ones she had wanted to say. 'I didn't expect you to come here'.

Evanora stopped as suddenly as if she had come up against a wall. Her eyes gleamed with anger and despair, as if she hadn't wanted Glinda to bring that up. The woman didn't speak. Instead, she rested a hand on her hip and folded her other arm over her stomach, drumming out a rhythm on her hand. A surprisingly comfortable silence settled between them. Glinda was rather reluctant to break it. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that they were back to being young children again, engaged in a battle of wills to see who would break first. This time, it was her. 'I got your letter. I thought…' she sighed heavily. 'I wanted to tell you that I appreciate the apology, and that I am sorry for what I did'.

Evanora arched a slender eyebrow, her gaze rather sceptical. 'Are you, really? Can you honestly say that you are sorry for pursuing him?'

Glinda took a deep breath. Honesty was the key here. Her sister would know whether she was lying or not. 'No. Not for that. I _am_ sorry for continuing to pursue him when it became clear of the love between you both. I'm sorry that I kissed him, thus making you believe that he had betrayed you. I'm sorry that I made one last ditch attempt to win his affections by bringing him here, which consequently led to his death'.

Evanora's eyes closed in pain, the mention of his death still as heartrending as the day she first heard that he was gone forever. 'Well, of course, that makes everything better'.

'I never said it did. _You _apologised to me first, Evanora'. A frown creased her brow as she realised just how out of character that was. 'Why?'

Evanora shrugged her shoulders. In truth, it had been a split second decision during which she was pretty sure that her sanity had been slipping. She though suddenly of her lost lover, and the words she had imagined him saying. _What happened to you? _'Perhaps I realised that he wasn't the only thing I've lost'.

Glinda's heart thudded to a halt. Something other than Locasta's visit had clearly affected Evanora. She sounded like the woman who had just lost her true love, but who had not yet even considered biting the apple. 'Evanora…I know what our father did'.

Evanora's eyes flew open, surprise clearly reflected in her dark eyes. Then she nodded. 'Of course, it was foolish of me to believe that Locasta would be able to keep it to herself forever'.

'Why didn't you kill her? I mean, when you found out what she had said to father? You knew that she wasn't dead, didn't you?' She had to know. She had to know why, even at the height of her wickedness, Evanora still seemed to have had some love left inside her.

The woman tilted her head up, her eyes tracing patterns between the stars. The dark clouds that had obscured the sky for most of the day were dissipating. 'Locasta was the only one, aside from him, that ever seemed to understand how I felt. The only one who considered my feelings above others. She was the one who introduced us in the first place. For that alone, I would not hunt her down. Perhaps it was because she was, is, my sister, and despite everything, despite the apple, I still had some shred of love left for her'.

'Is that why you banished me instead of killing me? There was plenty of time for you to do that. In fact, you could have killed me when you killed father. But you didn't. Instead you framed me and banished me. If you were so desperate to have me dead, why not poison me too?' It was something that had bothered her for a while. Glinda and Evanora might be very evenly matched when it came to their magic, but even Glinda wouldn't have been able to guard against poisoning.

Evanora said nothing. She was having trouble focusing her thoughts. Her eyes kept flittering from one star to another, lingering for a moment too long on the bright moon. She imagined, just for a moment, that the stars were people, looking down on Oz. What must they think of the story so far? She laughed quietly. Perhaps she really was going mad. 'Perhaps Glinda, perhaps'. If she was honest with herself, that was the exact reason. Even now, she still held some tiny amount of love for her younger sister, no matter how much she tried to squash it. But she was not going to admit that. She wasn't ready to, and maybe she never would be.

Glinda watched her sister gaze up into the night sky, and started, suddenly remembering what she had brought with her. She reached beneath the cloak adorning her shoulders and extracted a small object. She stepped forwards and grasped her sister's hands, pressing the item into her fingers before releasing her quickly, not wanting to push the contact. 'Here. You left it behind. I thought that you might want it back'.

It was the portrait of the apprentice. Evanora lifted it to her face, staring down at the drawing with wide eyes. Her heart was pounding in her chest, the blood rushing in her ears, and she wasn't even aware of the wide smile curving her lips, nor the tears brightening her eyes. She was sure that it had been lost forever. A surge of love rushed through her chest. It seemed that she hadn't lost the last piece of him after all. She turned the frame over and her smile widened even further as she saw a flash of white through the gap at the back. The written proof that he loved her had survived too, despite all the odds stacked against it. And because of the relief, she wasn't able to stop the words that slipped past her lips. 'Thank you'. Her voice was thick and choked with emotion, the last word catching in her throat as she fought back tears, but they were sincere none the less.

Glinda couldn't speak. She could only stare. Evanora had always been beautiful. But the smile was positively dazzling. It brightened her entire face, sparkling in her eyes, and it made her look very young. It was the first true smile that she had seen from her in years.

And Glinda felt a small smile quirk her own lips. Relief flooded her body as she gazed at her sister's face, alive with emotion and love as she reached out the run her fingers over the drawing. Right there, in the sparkle of her eyes and curve of her lips, was the proof that her sister was not heartless. She was still capable of love, and as long as that remained true, she was still capable of redemption.

And with that knowledge, Glinda felt hope blossom in her chest. Perhaps all was not lost for their family after all.

* * *

_**So, if you made it this far, there are some chocolate cauldron shaped cookies in the corner. I do apologise for the length. I was going to make it shorter, but I couldn't find a good place to cut it off. **_

_**So, what do you think? I know it's a little out of character, but honestly we don't actually know that much about Evanora and Glinda. What did you think of the backstory? What did you think of Locasta? The apprentice, and his history with Glinda and Evanora, who I have not named, was based a little on **__**Fiyero**__** from Wicked the Musical. **_

_**I have some ideas for one or two more chapters, which I will write depending on the reception this receives. Please let me know what you think! (But no flames please) :)**_


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